Today, I write with a sad heart and so dedicate this korero to all families and friends who have lost someone dear to them recently. Kei te mihi aroha ki a tatou, ki a koutou katoa.
Several weeks ago, we farewelled a friend who I had randomly met two years back. His name was Fergus Griffiths and from our seats at the Library Cafe, we would sit for hours talking about the state of the world, the history of Rotorua and my work in council.
He was a vocal critic of decisions made by Rotorua District Council and since the mayor wasn't within earshot, he decided I was the next best thing, always taking me to task as if I had any power in that chamber.
We would sit and share each other's opinions on a wide range of matters and over time he came to be someone whose opinion I treasured.
He was cheeky and had a wicked sense of humour, yet he could speak directly to the heart of an issue, seeing its pithy truth. When I learned he was sick, I thought I had more time to sit with him but then he passed away not long after.
My wife and I attended his memorial at the Gun Club, where friends and family paid tribute to a good man. I sat outside in the cool morning air, head down, wishing I had said one last goodbye.
And then just the other week, our uncle Pikiao Samuels passed away. He was a beautiful man with a generous spirit, who always had a smile and a story to share.
Over the years we had participated in the Ngati Pikiao Wananga, which had been initiated by uncle Putu Mihaka and uncle Lawrence Tamati in an effort to bring our hapu back together to learn whakapapa, to share old stories and to create new memories. Our particular interest was in learning whaikorero, as there was no higher honour than to stand and speak on behalf of your whanau.
When I received the message that Uncle Pikiao has passed away after a short illness, I felt that Lake Rotoiti itself was crying, for we had all lost another important taonga. He had played such a big part in many peoples lives and yet, in this time of sorrow, I saw his whanau comfort others who had came to pay their respects.
It was a powerful moment for me, to see how much love and aroha surrounded this man.
While I know that life is not fair, it is always hard to say goodbye to good friends. Both men always greeted me with a smile and a hello, liked to talk about the simple things in life and always made me feel that little bit better after we spoke. They weren't afraid to say they didn't know something and treated me like an equal, rather than some dumb hori kid, finding time in their lives to ask me about mine. To me, they lived life as an exclamation and not as an explanation, so I will fondly remember the good talks we had and wish to send our heartfelt blessings to everyone who knew both generous men. He mihi. He mihi.